Bizarre Alliances
by Bigbiggy
Summary: A blue drake named Toragos and his Alliance friends go in Pandaria, mainly to hide Toragos from an elite group of Horde members who are after him. But, what seems like the enemy might be just another valuable ally in the upcoming struggles. My first attempt at fanfiction. R&R, please.
1. Chapter 1

Dreams of Peace.

"Another round fer me, lass!"

"Incomin'!" Shouted the female bartender, her stocky build and her heavy accent defining her as a dwarf.

She filled a mug with an amber colored brew before sliding it on the counter where a big calloused hand was awaiting. It halted the slide of the mug and greedily warped around the handle, bringing it towards a face with a long black beard. The dwarf smiled as he took a deep gulp of his ale before wiping his beard with the back of his hand. Said dwarf had a shaved head, save for a ponytail sprouting from the back of the round head, and his skin was marked with ancestral tattoos. A shaman, a curator of souls and a mender of elements. To his left stood a human clad in black clothes, wearing a black cowboy hat and smoking a cigar. He lifted his head, showing a pair of crafty brown eyes, and smiled at the dwarf, who seemed more like a child playing with his favorite toy.

"Enjoying fine ale, eh Grembald?"

"Och, I haven't had ale from, emh, lemme see… from when I went on the Highlands helpin' th' adventurers defeat the cult!" Replied Grembald, taking another swig. "Wha' 'bout ye Mathiew?"

"Well, the battle for Wyrmrest wasn't as exciting as I expected… Especially with those of the horde roaming around…"

"An' wha' 'bout ye Tor?"

The human called Tor was gazing at the night sky visible from the window. His blue-black hair fell down covering the left half of his face. The other half of the face was that of a man around his mid-thirties wearing a pair of glasses. He turned his head at Grembald and simply replied.

"Not in the mood now, friend…"

"Oh, come on Tor! Nobody else but us knows your secret… Well, if us includes all the mortals at Wyrmrest, and all those mortals' friends and families… Well, yeah, nobody else."

"That's comforting as hells…" Sighed Tor.

"I dunnae knoo what's wrong with bein' a drake. I mean, sure, ye have a big burden to carry, but heck! It should be lots of fun!" Almost shouted Grembald.

At that moment the cheery dwarven bartender threw a curious glance at the group.

"Alcohol is getting on him…" Said Mathiew.

The bartender just gave a smile and returned to cleaning the mugs.

"You should stop drinking _that_…" murmured Tor at Grembald, who simply grinned.

"Och silly me! Sorreh lad… Uhm, if I can call ye that way… How old are ye actually?"

"Seventy two… So yes, since you are older than me you can technicaly call me that…" Sighed Tor.

"Well, just cheer up an' drink somethin'! Ye lassie!" Shouted Grembald catching the attention of the bartender.

"What can I do fer ya?" Asked the dwarven woman.

"Fill a mug o' ale fer me pal 'ere!"

The bartender grabbed a mug and filled it to the brim with ale, before sliding it on the counter. Tor catched the mug and glanced at Grembald.

"I shouldn't be drinking this, you know…"

"Och just enjoy it!"

After some time had passed, and after the mugs had emptied Grembald muttered to himself.

"Och, Deathwing is dead, an' th' world is safe again. I think peace is more reacheable than never now…"

He was cut short by a door slamming and a messenger running in. The boy panted heaveily for a bit of time before catching his breath and started talking.

"I bring dire news! The city of Theramore has been destroyed by the Horde!" He said before running out of the inn, without giving anyone the chance to respond.

"Crap…" Was all what Mathiew said before all the people in the inn, the staff of the tavern included, got out from the building murmuring to each other….

* * *

A/N

So, this is my very first attempt at a story. It isn't only alliance based, so, stay tuned fro the next chapter when I will introduce you to a part of the Horde group.

P.S

Please keep in mind that English is not my primary language.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the universe this story is set, Blizzard does. (Forgot about this the first chapter, so yeah…)

* * *

Thundering Skies.

Rain poured down from the skies on the hooded heads of four vyvern riders. They were of different races, an undead, an orc, a goblin and a blood elven woman, but wore all the same cloaks and hoods, protecting them from the heavy rain. The skies of Dustwallow marsh wept for the recent tragedy. The city of Theramore, gone, blasted away from a powerful bomb. The smoldering crater crackled with arcane energy as all the structures around were singed or simply disintegrated. So much destruction, and yet a great success on behalf of the Horde. Simple as that, with Theramore gone the Alliance lost a strategic point in Kalimdor. But still the feeling of wrongness lingered, the very balance of things brought to a dangerous point. The artifact used to power the bomb was nothing else but the Focusing Iris, the same artifact that helped the Dragon Aspects fight Deathwing. It was a mystery how the warchief had put his hands on such a vast source of power, but it was clear that the attention of the blue dragonflight was towards the Horde now. The blood elf broke the stillness first.

"So, Myrion, what was that?"

The undead gave a shrug and replied with a raspy voice.

"Not totally sure Eliana… I mean… We were not informed of the bomb at all… Thank the Shadow we were already flying away when they dropped it."

"Yeah, that wath narrow!" Replied the goblin with a slight lisp on his voice. "But, heck, Theramore now ith a thinkhole!"

"Gah, Siz… you really have to talk like that?" Replied the orc.

"Yeah, ya know Gruk, thince that punch you gave me."

"Oh I would gladly deliver another one to you…" Said the Gruk stroking his armored knuckles.

"Now, now… Hrm… I think we are heading a bit to much to the northwest." Intervened Myrion pulling the reins of his vyvern putting it on the right course, the others doing the same.

"What will this mean for us?" Asked Eliana with a hint of innocence in her voice.

"The destruction of Theramore? For sure…" A lightning ripped the skies and thunder followed soon after as Gruk, Myrion and Siz responded in unison."War!"

* * *

A/N.  
Thanks for reading, and yay! First review… I was sincerely prepaired for a negative one, since, well yeah, I think I suck :O! Anyways, glad you enjoyed my characters, and sorry, I should've posted this earlier but I had some connection problems. And yeah, sorry about the fact this chapter is way shorter than the previous, but the next one will mark the start of the actual story.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the universe this story is set, Blizzard does.

A/N

Okay, i kinda redid this chapter, thanks to Gwarch for pointing out those mistakes, I want to point out that I am totaly new to the whole fanfiction writing. And about the explanation of Dhark's plans, I just did it because it seemed very lore breaking saying that the horde had banned the ties with blue dragons. Hopefuly this makes the story more clear, if not just let me know. Sorry if my mistakes make the reading unpleasant but I will try as best as I can to fix them.

* * *

All but peaceful.

The dwarf stood there, defiance in every single one of his features. Myrion was pointing one of his long pistols at his head. Why dwarves had to be so damn stubborn. He had proven a difficult chase but finally with a precise shot to the leg the undead had crippled the tricky dwarf and was now upon him.

"You have nowhere else to run, dwarf. Tell me where the shaman named Grembald is, and I might let you live."

"Och, to th' Nether ye an yer damnable faction! I am nae tellin' ye a thing ye damnable sack o' bones!" Replied angrily the dwarf.

"Well. I'll give you a chance. I'll count down to three if you don't tell me anything I need to know, I'll blast a hole in your head. One"

"Och go tae th' nether!"

"Two…"

"… I'd rather shave me beard an' use it to wipe me…"

"Three!" And with that a boom was heard as the dwarf fell lifeless on the ground, staining the lush grass with fresh blood oozing from a hole in his forehead.

"Damn these dwarves, always so difficult to gather any scrap of information from them!"

"If you say so…" Came a deep voice from behind Myrion. It's owner, a pandaren clad in black clothes and wearing a huge straw hat stepped forth. "Still you didn't have to kill him."

"Ah, shut up Juntao! You don't know anything about tensions between Horde and Alliance… I mean, you are just a bloody pandaren. Anyways, why the heck are you here?"

"Well, probably I don't know anything about Horde and Alliance, but for sure I know how to milk information…" Replied Juntao with a smirk on his face.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I know where the dwarf you are looking for is hiding."

"Sometimes I totally hate you, Jun… Sometimes though you are pure gold! Now, where to?"

"Ah, just a small farm house in the Valley of the Four Winds, property of a certain… Lysaelu."

"How did you get all this shit…" Asked Myrion while sheathing back his pistol.

"Ale can do miracles sometimes!" Replied the pandaren cheerfully. "South-west then?"

"Yes."

* * *

Toragos stood inside the small farmhouse gathering his thoughts. He had lost all contacts with his sister, the blue dragons had parted ways and as if it wasn't enough, some members of the horde were chasing him. All happened one day near Dustwallow where he and his friends were attacked by a group of warlocks wearing the tabards of the Horde. Fortunately, Toragos sensed them and as soon as they made their appearance he was in flight carrying his friends safely on his back. He heard a shout in orcish calling at him, using his name, to threaten him that he wasn't safe whenever he went. At first he wasn't decided as to believe it or not, but some bullets fired at his group from atop a hill in Elwyn forest. It could have been anyone, but still he was worried. So his fellow alliance friends had come in the conclusion that he wasn't safe, and that he was to be moved to a place where no one would come after him. Lysaelu, the kind draenei shaman had offered her small farmhouse in pandaria as a hideout. So here he was, gazing through the window at the lush trees on the small garden outside. The voices of his friends could be heard, discussing about something. Then an angry shout from Grembald broke the utter stillness of the ambience.

"Ambush!"

Toragos jolted to his feet and ran towards the door slamming it open, only to be greeted by a chain net that warped all around his body, rendering him unable to move. He tried to change into his dragon form, but nothing happened. It couldn't be! The same metal the orc warlock Necros Skullcrusher had used to bind the great dragonqueen to his will was now used to ensnare him! He felt a leg over his torso and a raspy voice, barely audible from the sounds of battle from the backyard.

"Look, look what we have here… If it isn't that pesky drake that evaded my bullets!" The undead was all clad in black leather and cloth, with various chainmail pieces hanging from his torso, wearing a ragged black hat atop his head, and a scarf covering his mouth. "You are a skilled flyer, I'll give you that, still, the problem is that my superiors have requested me to bring you to them… Any idea? Oh it doesn't matter, you are my concern as far as you reach Orgrimmar!"

"Despicable sack of bones! Let me go!" Shouted Toragos, needless to say, in vain. The undead simply grabbed an extremity of the net and started dragging Toragos from the front door. As soon as he was out it was his turn to be surprised. A pandaren came down from the roof aiming at the undead with a bamboo stick. Strangely enough the undead was more agile than he seemed as he performed a sidestep dodging the dangerous blow completely, spinning around with a huge riffle in his hands ready to pull the trigger, only to be sent flying by a kick right to his stomach. As the undead was down, the pandaren kneeled down and with what seemed as the slightest of tugs broke the net that was ensnaring Toragos. In a moment he changed to his true form spreading his wings and flying towards the helpless undead on the ground only to freeze as he heard him say:

"Stop right there or you will never learn what has happened to Balagosa!"

Toragos was a mere claw away from killing the undead, but instead he stopped. Was the abomination lying to him? Most certainly, still he wanted to hear anything that hinted that his sister was not dead and here this undead offered him the opportunity. With a voice full of doubt and rage he said.

"Go on, and you better be saying the truth, or else…" With that the drake snarled and showed his teeth towards the undead.

"Fine, fine, just let me pull this orb from my pouch. Not tricks I swear in the Dark Lady's name!" Said the forsaken as he pulled out an orb from a pouch hanging on his waist. He put it down gently and it started to glow a bright blue, then mist of the same color erupted from it the centre of the cloud starting to clear out revealing a cave filled with blue spiked eggs. A blue dragon was crouching protectively over the eggs while chanting different spells towards a group of orcs dressed in black-red robes, who were casting different spells, shadows and fel fire warping around their gloved hands. A blue drake appeared on the right edge of the 'screen' before dissappearing, angry shouts in draconic could be heard.

"Get away from these eggs you despicable pawns of the legion!"

Toragos gasped and turned an icy gaze towards the forsaken, who seemed utterly confused. Then another phrase came from the orb, now in common.

"Myrion, what are your Horde friends doing! Tell them to stop, now! I and my brood mother cannot stand for much longer!" Said the drake breathing frost at a group of gun weilding orcs dressed in the same black-red attire.

Myrion stammered a bit but proceeded to shout in orcish.

"Hey, hey! Stop it, they are harmless!"

"Myrion!"

"I'm trying! Whoever you are! Stop this now!"

A deep guttural voice came from the mist, chuckling.

"Ah Myrion, such an unfortunate twist of events…"

"Dhark! What, in the name of the shadow are you doing!" Shouted the undead.

"Well, taking what the horde needs. How about you? Have you fulfilled your task? And most important, what are your ties to this little couple of blue dragons here? Ah it doesn't matter, does it? Well Myrion, it has been fun for all the time it lasted, but I'm afraid you and your little group are, dismissed!"

"What the fuck are you talking about!"

"Orders from above, anyone of the Horde who has any ties with blue dragons is an enemy of the Horde!" Replied the voice with a slight tone of amusement. "So, the drake you were sent after is to be chased by someone else and you, are never to be seen on Horde territory again!"  
With that the blue mist dissipated and left behind a very confused drake and an undead ready to blow up with hatred…

* * *

A/N  
Whatever just to clarify some stuff, Dhark is a high ranked strategist amongst the horde forces, still, he has a plan of his own. He just made up the whole "Banned ties with blue dragons" to get rid of any obstacle (I.e Myrion's group). Besides than that, hopefully there are no grammar mistakes and no huge plot gaps. Review please, it means a whole lot to me.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the universe this story is set, Blizzard does.

* * *

On the run

Toragos stood in his dragon form, completely frozen trying to figure out just what the fel had happened… So, there was this weird undead who knew his sister, his sister was with his brood mother and alive, too… This undead tried to capture Toragos to send him to Orgrimmar, and still tried his best reasoning with the orcs that were assaulting Balagosa. Who was he?

Then the dragon felt a rush of anger, towards the same undead in front of him, whom in the meanwhile had erupted like mount Kajaro, shouting words not worth repeating, towards the orcs who attacked his sister and brood mother, towards the Horde who was plunging into total chaos not caring about anything in the world.

He roared his frustration and shot a glare filled with rage towards Myrion. He prepared to assault the helpless undead, but a thought came to him, that that same undead was actually angry at something, perhaps the same thing Toragos was angry about.

He changed in his mortal form and approached Myrion tapping him lightly on his shoulder. The undead spun around furiously his scarf had fallen down from his nose bridge, revealing a totally black jaw stitch marks around his mouth and under his cheekbones, and shouted.

"What the fuck now!"

His only answer was a straight punch to the face as black ichor spattered Toragos's outstretched fist. The undead went stumbling backwards when a frostbolt slammed on his chest sending him flying away. He didn't feel any pain, but still, for the Shadow's sake, he felt that some of his ribs snapped while the decaying skin froze. After a short time being airborne he landed hard on his rear. Toragos blinked over him placing a foot over his chest.

"Awesome, suppose you want to dispose of me… Go on , damn I deserve it! I fight to protect this damn planet and what I get… My allies try to destroy it. Go, make it quick!"

Much to Myrion's surprise, Toragos actually extended a hand to help him stand.

"You are not afraid that I might just blow your hand away? How odd… Or is that just a trick to make me feel safer and then… Bang… kill me?"

"No tricks, undead, at least not from me. Take my hand and get up, we have my sister and mother to save."

"Funny, I think I just heard we." Said the undead, grasping Toragos's hand and pulling himself up.

"Oh, you heard it right. This is the least you can do…"

"Listen buddy, I didn't put her in this mess, the Horde did, and if you are deaf and didn't hear what Dhark said, I can make it clear for you! I-Have-Been-Banned-From-The-Damn-HORDE!" Leashed out Myrion.

"Yes, but still, you tried to kill me…"

"Capture you." Corected Myrion.

"Yeah, capture me. So, the least you can do is help me and my friends… Uh, oh…"

"Uh, oh, why?"

"Hrm, you brought your friends too, if I'm correct?"

"Yeah, I tho- Uh, oh… We better hurry up!"

"Before you do anything, I must insist you drink this." Said the pandaren from before, who was now pulling out of a pouch an eight shaped flask.

"What the hell are you talking about, people are killing eachother in the backyard, and you want us to stop and have a drink!" Rasped Myrion.

"Yes." Replied the pandaren innocently.

"No, not now, maybe we can do it later…"

"Fine, fine. But your 'friends' have to drink too." Said the pandaren, putting his brew back on the pouch where he took it from.

"Let us hurry then!" Said Toragos as they made a quick run for the house. Myrion kicked the front door open, and hurried to the backdoor, only to find it torn from it's hinges being thrown to a frustrated looking Mathiew from Gruk.

The human dodged it easily and proceeded to throw a knife at the warrior which embed in the orc's thick plated shoulder pad. A bit further Siz was having a hard time trying to cast even one of his immolation spells, while Grembald tried to chop him with his element imbued axes. Eliana was bombarding the draenei, Lysaelu, with barrages of arcane magic, as the poor shaman could only rise weak defenses to shield herself. Myrion scanned the battlefield and noticed Juntao sitting on the shadow of a peach tree unpacking something that resembled terribly with a drink.

"Woha, woha, woha! Stop right there!" Shouted the undead. Strangely enough every single combatant stopped and threw glares at Myrion. "We ain't fighting anymore for today! I, and our dragon friend here, have agreed to cease the hostilities between us… The reason, wait and I shall tell you."

"Och, blast it! He lies, kill 'im!" Shouted Grembald as he blew a strong gust of wind towards the undead. He got slammed on the wall and shortly afterwards chunks of earth slammed with his legs, breaking them.

"Grembald! Stop!" Shouted Toragos, casting a shield over Myrion that deflected the last boulders aiming for his head and torso.

"Och! Look ther'! He wasn' lyin' after all, eh?" Said Grembald with a chuckle. "Still, Tor, what th' bloody hell has happened?!"

"The Horde has captured my sister and my brood mother, and they are the only hope we have."

"Yeah, and believe it or not, heh, we got exiled from the Horde." Said Myrion, trying to free himself from the rocky prison.

"What?!" Shouted in unsion Eliana, Siz and Gruk.

"Yeah. Remember our buddy, Dhark? He turned out to be a bastard. He captured the dragon's mother and sister and yeah… Said that we were exiled from the Horde. Now…"

"You are lying, Boney!" Replied Gruk in disbelief. " There must have a misunderstanding, or something, I'll head to Orgrimmar and get answers!"

"Go, the sooner you open your eyes the better." Replied calmly the undead. With that, the orc clenched something in his hand, and he was gone in a swirling green mist.

"Well, now what Myrion?" Asked Eliana.

"Well, simple enough, we go find Dhark, we kill Dhark, we free the dude's family. Simple as that."

"Well, how are we gonna get there, geniuth?" Asked Siz while banishing his imp. "Or should I remind ye that we're on the run?"

"Hah, now that you say that… We're on the run, and my bloody legs are broken!"

* * *

A/N

So very sorry guys, but I have been VERY busy with school and life… And yeah… Again, so very sorry for not posting for so long. I'll try to update it whenever I can, hopefully school will not be so relentless for long. And yeah… Uh… Well… Review please?


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the universe this story is set, Blizzard does.

* * *

The coven.

Gruk couldn't believe what Myrion said. Really? Exiled by the Horde? No, it couldn't be, he would get the proof! And so he clenched his hearthstone hard in his fist and disappeared in a green mist, only to appear in the middle of a dark cave, only a single brazier illuminating the whole area.

'_This isn't my home_!' Thought Gruk while looking all around himself to try and get any tiny bit of information that would show him where he was. The answer came abruptly and violently. With a roar something pounced on the orc's back, pinning him down and delivering a vicious bite to the warrior's arm, fangs so long that almost made contact with bone. With a blur of rage Gruk started punching the creature's face with his gauntleted hand, producing sickening thuds everytime metal made contact with… Scales? With one last punch the creature snarled loudly and detached from the orc's arm.

Gruk proceeded to pull out one of his huge axes and with a downwards swing sliced the beast's head in two. Then he knelt down, inspecting the creature slowly. It was a reddish brown canine looking beast, scaly and had a pair of odd limbs sprouting from it's spiked back. A felhound.

Gruk realized it a little to late that the beast was controlled, as a huge bold of green fire shaped like a dragon's head slammed hard on his back burning what armor and flesh it could find. The orc turned around, rage burning within him, numbing the pain from the terrible wound he just received, and charged forwards… Only to be stopped by a sudden sense of exhaustion. Every little movement ached and the warrior lost a good amount of speed.

He did hit something though, a huge felguard holding a wicked looking axe. It gave a monstrous laugh and rose it's axe up, ready to decapitate the orc, only to be stopped by a command uttered from a deep, guttural voice.

"Wait. Let me take care of this one." Said the voice. "Horras, light up the braziers!"

With an audible snap all the braziers around the cave flared and lit up, revealing dark red walls, various clouds of red smoke floated here and there and there was a big bookcase just behind a work desk. But what caught Gruk's eye the most was a massive gathering of blue spiked eggs with some sort of runes all around the ground they were put on, a soft blue light rising from the gathering of eggs accumulating on an eye shaped crystal that seemed to overlook the entire cave.

"So, you actually decided to use the hearthstone? How very idiotic, the Horde banishes you, and you try and get back in their territory! Ah well, doesn't actually matter. You see, I changed the mechanism of your stone a bit. Instead of transporting you back home, it got you right to us, as you might have already noticed." Said the same voice as before in one breath.

Gruk turned and recognized an orcish face, a face he knew all to well. The fellow orc had a wild looking beard, a bald spot on the head as black hair flowed behind his hears and head. One of his hears was damaged at the tip, while the other was gone completely. A vicious grin was on the orc's face as he looked down on the warrior.

"Dhark, you bastard!" Leashed out Gruk. "Myrion was right!"

"Oh, you should consider renaming yourself from Dhark Dragoneater to Dhark the Bastard…" Came an amused baritone voice from behind Dhark. "It does fit you quite well."

"Shut up and continue with the harvesting, Horras!" Snapped Dhark. An undead sighed and turned towards the eggs, waving his hands in some complicate patterns as the mist started flowing in more intensity towards the eye shaped crystal. "So… Gruk, you see, after all you saw here we cannot let you live. Unless…"

"Unless what?" Asked the warrior rising his head and staring dead into the warlock's eyes.

"You get back to your friends and lead them to us."

Gruk gave a loud laugh with occasional droplets of blood spattering the other orc's blackish red robe. The laughter all the sudden turned into a roar as Gruk with one last desperate act tried to chop the other orc down with his axe. Needles to say it was in vain as the felguard immediately stepped in and with a single swing cut off the head of the warrior.

The green head rolled and reached the feet of the undead warlock that was chanting enchantments. He interrupted his casting and turned a glance at the head. With a sneer and a twist of his wrist both the head and the body of Gruk were set ablaze with green fire.

"Well, you killed him. How are we going to get to them now?"

"Well, I have hired someone… Special." Said Dhark and started chuckling darkly. "How are our little guests doing?"

"Almost drained of all the magical power. But again, why the heck you fired them? Wouldn't it have been easier to simply let them come here by themselves and deliver the drake to you?" Asked Horras fully turning towards Dhark.

"Because I didn't want only that drake. You see, if they are to come here, they will surely hire more help. But who can trust them?"

"The blue dragons." Muttered the undead stroking his chin. "And if more blue dragons come, more eggs for us to harvest, and…"

"The sooner we turn Orgrimmar into a hub of the Legion!" Completed Dhark with a maniacal grin on his face.

"So, this… Special one. Who is he?" Asked Horras while once again turning at the eggs.

"A certain undead you should know. He calls himself, Captain Raynes!"

* * *

Miles away from the cave where the twisted ritual was taking place, on a seaborne vessel sailing over the waves of the Great Sea, a figure clad in a black and purple cloak appeared seemingly from nothing. It rose it's hooded head, green eyes piercing the darkness of it's hood. He looked around him, a crew of mostly undead people stopped their activities and threw curious glances towards them. A particularly hunched undead came forth, walked towards the Shadowy figure and spoke, slowly.

"Hail Cap'n! What news come from across the seas?"

The captain moved his head and stared dead into the yellow eyes of his first mate.

"We have a mission. Master Karthian fetch me Zachariah and his brute, I have matters to discuss with them."

"Aye cap'n!" Readily responded the first mate and then as if remembering something spoke up again. "Cap'n, we ran across an Alliance trading ship and we're currently chasing them, shall we take direct approach, or shall we just ignore them?"

"Well. A quick raid won't hurt, plus the men need to be in their top condition for the task we have… If that's so." Said the pirate captain and with a quick motion tore away his cloak revealing a tall skeletal man, his face was completely devoid of skin and flesh, and the flesh had fallen also from his elbows. He wore black ragged leather pants, the rest of his feet were bandaged with dirty linen bandages. A black leather jacket covered his torso and he wore black leather and chainmail gloves. Around his thin neck he had a long scarf witch draped down forming a long two-part cape.

The pirate produced a pirate hat and put it gently on his head before unsheathing an old style pistol decorated with disturbing imagery of skulls and bones.

"Prepare for attack men! We are killing humans today!" Shouted the captain as he shot a flaring bullet up in the air. The crew cheered and quickly ran to the respective battle stations.

"Cap'n Raynes. Forgive my curiosity… But where are we headed?"

"After we kill these humans?"

"Aye!"

"The northern shores of Pandaria…"


End file.
